


How Can I Help You?

by CaptainErica



Series: Subtleties defeat you [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, cute little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: Hermione isn't sure what is going on, but something must be going on with Draco.





	How Can I Help You?

Hermione Granger was, she believed at least, extremely logical; facts and numbers and the proper order of things all spent time tumbling around in her head, and she was quite comfortable with this. She quite liked it like this, like everything worked in the ways she had learned.

She was not _naïve_ , she’d lived through a harrowing war, dealt with grief and sorrow (still dealing with), and understood that while the world had a natural, logical order… sometimes people did not.

Take Luna, for example.

Luna, Hermione believed, was incredibly intelligent but somehow still believed in a thousand impossible things a day. Hermione had gifted her one of her younger self’s favorite books, _Alice in Wonderland_ , one Christmas. They couldn’t agree on many things, but Hermione had grown since her time at Hogwarts and was able to accept that.

Ron, as another example, had a number of completely illogical fears and beliefs that came out every so often when Hermione least expected it (as do most things that a logical, factually-minded person wouldn’t think about). No matter how many times he reminded her that his fear of spiders had been proven to be vaguely understandable in his 2nd year of schooling, Hermione couldn’t allow that line of thinking.

_“Ron, an Acromantula is quite different from your everyday garden spider. I know that arachnophobia is quite common, but the point of it being called a phobia is that it has no basis in true reason.”_

Ron also believed a number of old wives’ tales and things that had been passed down to him through his family. His firm belief in divination, for one, his belief in the _grim_ as a foreteller of death and doom for another…

She was more understanding now, as an adult with the history she had behind her, but it still didn’t help her when faced with the utter ridiculousness of the man before her desk now.

“…so ultimately I had to concede, as mother would know far more about albino peacocks than I, but as if it weren’t enough that they were divining the weather, now they’re convinced I’m to be widowed soon. It’s quite a difficult way to live, and I would just like to see someone pop over and check on them, is all.” Draco Malfoy says with an extremely straight face.

Professional as ever, Hermione has managed to contain the physical reactions this kind of insanity usually would produce in her; twitching eye, bemused and almost outraged expression. Instead she’s fair neutral of face right now.

“Mr. Malfoy…” She starts when he seems to be willing to stop speaking for the moment (he’d been going for 10 minutes). “I regret to inform you that this type of… situation is not under my purview any longer. I would suggest going back into the waiting area and asking for Mr. Waffling, as he deals with exotic pets with magical ailments or issues, as I do believe that your albino peacocks are not strictly magical in and of themselves.” She’s pleased when she has finished the suggestion, as it was most likely the correct response, and it also meant that Malfoy could leave; he and his ridiculous claims.

Malfoy frowns, disapproving, sitting straight up in the chair across her desk. “Miss Granger I do not believe you understand the urgency of this situation: they are divining my imminent widowing.”

“Malfoy, as they are peacocks and not augureys, who I might remind you do not actually foretell an upcoming death despite the fanfare, I must insist that you will be quite alright. I would also like to point out that as far as I am aware: you are not currently married, and therefore cannot become widowed. Please do correct me if I am wrong there.” She truly can’t remember if he had gotten married or not. She had thought she had heard that he was dating someone… Greengrass, maybe?

Malfoy frowns at her some more, eyes intent upon her and not nearly as full of disappointment as the rest of his face. “Mr. Waffling, you said?” He asks after a rather pregnant pause, and Hermione nods once.

“Out into the waiting room, ask for him at the desk.” She repeats, and he nods slowly before standing and making his way out of her office. She breathes a sigh of relief when he leaves, confused but pushing it to the side so that she can finish her actual work before lunch.

She leaves for lunch with her IN tray empty and her OUT tray slowly shrinking as they’re returned or requested by their proper next owners. She likes a bit of reliability in her schedule, and so it is that she makes her way down from her office to the auror floor to remind Harry that it’s lunch time.

Unlike Hermione who paid close attention to her schedule unless dire circumstances were in effect, Harry tended to forget meals or clock-out time if he had things to do. Hermione had decided, about 6 months into her time at the ministry that it was due to his inability to provide the right amount of time to the right tasks. For example, a simple report that consisted of him merely filing in the blanks could take him an hour to do, while a detailed rundown on an upcoming job could take him a mere 5 minutes to prepare for and a further 15 to deliver; perfectly succinct and well-developed.

It drove Hermione rather insane, but she didn’t work with him directly so she could only be silently annoyed by the disaster that was Harry Potter at work.

She stops before his desk, waving to one of the other aurors as she gets there, and waits as Harry finishes a rather long sentence (missing a bit of punctuation), and then finally looks up at her.

“Ah, lunch already?” He asks, a smile bleeding onto his features as he registers who it is before him.

She nods, a matching smile on her face (fond). “Yes, and I’m feeling the café down the street from the telephone box entrance, you know?” She suggests, and Harry sits back in his seat like he’s taking her in and deciding why she would want to go somewhere _muggle_ today, before he nods and makes to stand.

“They’ve the cookies, right? The orange marmalade ones?” He asks as he goes for his cloak, remembers they’re going to muggle London, and then pulls out his wand to change it into a more acceptable jacket.

Hermione snorts softly, already turning away. “Yes, that one precisely.” She says, rather fond of those cookies herself.

“Saw Malfoy, I’m guessing.” Harry says after they’ve ordered and sat down at a nicely deserted table in the café. They’re conversation had been perfectly normal the entire way to the café, and she was a little put out that it had turned already.

She blinks, a little surprised by the statement so she shifts in her seat a bit before answering “Yes, I, how did you know?” She asks, frowning at him a little, which only earns her a bright smile and a wink.

“Chosen One and all that, remember? I _know_ things.” He says, and Hermione rolls her eyes and shakes her head, a laugh bubbling up. “No? Well, consider it a very good guess.” He says, eyes almost twinkling behind his glasses.

Hermione sighs, shaking her head a little at him. “Well, if you must know, he came down because his mother’s peacocks have been tampered with in some way, supposedly.” She says, shaking her head again as she remembers the conversation. “It was pointless, I sent him to the person who can actually help, who knows if he _can_ be helped, though.” She says.

Harry seems to find this all rather funny, so she huffs a little before gesturing at him to go on and say his bit. “No, I just… this is the 4th time in so many weeks he’s showed up in your office asking ridiculous questions, Hermione, I’d say something else was going on.”

Despite it being said in a leading way, a smile on Harry’s face, Hermione’s own face responds with a blank look that turns to one of dawning horror. “You don’t think someone is playing with him, or his mother, do you? Oh Harry, that would be a nasty thing to do, they’ve been quiet since the war, done nothing to earn any such malice.” She says, a little quietly indignant at the very thought.

Harry blinks, surprised, then shakes his head. “No, ah, no I don’t think that’s quite what’s happening.” He says, almost like he’s amused by her, but he can’t be, this could be serious if true.

“You can’t just wave this off, Harry, it could be potentially serious.” She says, earnest, disappointed almost.

Harry sighs, “Alright, if you check in with whoever you sent Malfoy to about his peacocks and what they have to say about the matter makes you still believe in some type of long-form foul play, I’ll check into it.” He says, placating, but Hermione accepts it just the same and allows the conversation to flow on from there to other things that are decidedly not Draco Malfoy.

“Sylvia?” Hermione asks when she’s returned to her department, “Mr. Malfoy, did you send him on to Mr. Waffling after he left my office this morning?” She asks.

Sylvia frowns, considering the question. She had been working in the department for the better part of a decade as the receptionist, and took the position quite seriously. “No, he left, as he usually does after his visits.” She responds, which is the opposite of what Hermione had expected; all those other times in the past few weeks he had just… left? Not taken her advice at all?

“Right, thank you Sylvia.” She says, nodding, a frown touching her lips. She sends Harry a small memo though part of her doesn’t want to because it means he’s probably _right._

She just isn’t sure what Harry is right about this time around because it feels like more than just Malfoy not being personally targeted.

Two days go by and she’s mostly forgotten the whole thing, but only in that way that she forgets anything that she doesn’t need to think about actively. She probably would have forgotten about it all for another day or two (until the weekend, at least, when she did her best thinking), except that today she receives a hasty warning before her door is pushed open and in walks Draco Malfoy.

He looks almost like he thinks he’s victorious. Over what, Hermione cannot fathom, but it’s almost smug and it’s settled about his shoulders and his eyes in a way that makes Hermione bristle just a tiny bit, ready to argue or push back. 

“Granger.” He says, settling into the seat across from her desk. “The peacocks are doing marvelous, thank you for pointing me in the right direction.”

Hermione is _not_ expecting this, but she keeps her composure, which is what she’s best at, truly. Her mind whirs to life at the reminder of the peacocks and her unheeded suggestion. She’s mostly thrown off by the almost pleasant tone and an actual _thank you._

“No more portents of impossible deaths?” She asks, giving him a moment, trying to decide if she wants to call him out on his lie or not.

Malfoy shakes his head, “No, they are strictly peacocks now, thankfully.” He says, and she hums softly.

“Perfect,” She says, and then a short pause where Malfoy does not decide to leave. “Can I help you with something else, then?” She prompts, and he gives her a look like he’s a little startled, but it’s definitely an act.

“Oh, no, no, everything is fine today.” He says, almost pleasant, though his voice has always grated on her nerves just _so._

She looks at him a moment, face frozen a little in uncertainty. “Then, I will say good day.” She says with a nod, still softly uncertain.

Malfoy is quiet, watching her… very clearly taking her in. “Christmas is around the corner, you know.” He says, almost nonchalant, tipping back just a touch in his chair.

Hermione raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly, “Yes, I’d noticed.” She says, “they’ve put up decorations this week.” She adds, like that’s necessary to point out despite the fact that he would have had to walk past them on his way up and in.

“Very true.” He says, his own little nod following the words. It’s almost like he hesitates now, but the look is gone immediately and replaced so Hermione thinks maybe she imagined it. “Well, I’ll be on my way out.” He says, flashing her a little grin and then standing up (she’s so very caught off guard by that grin).

“Ah yes, good day.” She says, and then Draco Malfoy is gone and Hermione is left wondering what it is he was trying to get at.

It’s going to eat at her, she knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a gentle beginning to a series...


End file.
